


Hole-Dwelling People

by spookylos3r



Category: Ace Attorney, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Class Differences, Curse Breaking, Curses, Gen, Height Differences, M/M, Narumitsu - Freeform, Pining, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Supernatural - Freeform, Wrightworth - Freeform, Yaoi, based on a kikuo song, kikuo - Freeform, kinda junji ito inspired too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookylos3r/pseuds/spookylos3r
Summary: Little note: The first chapter of this is the summary/basic rundown of the plot. I wanted to point out here that this fic is based off of two very good (in my opinion) songs by Kikuo, a Vocaloid composer. The first is "Hole-Dwelling" and the second is "Tunnel Adventure". Please PLEASE listen to those songs as they're amazing and were a huge inspiration for this fic. Thanks so much, and I hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

Being a Hole-Dweller is being the lowest of the low. Being trash. Being so removed from the rest of humanity that no one will even come to visit. It’s nothing a person can help-- several hundred years ago, families deemed unworthy were cast into The Depths, a natural phenomenon of holes in the side of a mountain so deep that the back of it cannot be seen. Cursed to be removed from the rest of the world forever, the Hole-Dwellers experience deep pain and agony when outside of their caves. They are destined, for as long as their cursed bloodline exists, to live inside those dark, damp walls. Outers-- those who live outside the caverns-- stay away from The Depths purely due to the eeriness of those seemingly endless pits. In fact, most Outers do not even believe Hole-Dwellers exist. 

Miles Edgeworth, an upper-class young historian and archaeologist, is one of the Outers who believes otherwise. His one goal is to complete the work of his father, Gregory Edgeworth: finding definitive evidence of the Hole-Dwellers existence. Before his tragic death, Gregory reported locating cave paintings within The Depths, as well as hearing an eerie melody coming from deeper within. Determined, Miles aims to complete that research and prove himself as a powerful force in the world of archaeologists. 

Phoenix Wright is a Hole-Dweller. His family was the first to be cast into the depths and cursed to a life of segregation from humanity all those years ago. Surviving off of plant roots, worms, and other cave-dwelling creatures he has managed to live to twenty-four, making him middle-aged for his kind. In the dark of the cave, he continues the paintings that tell the story of his family and the mystery of why The Depths seem to get deeper and deeper every day. 

On his first excursion, the dignified Miles meets the wild Phoenix within the abyss. An unlikely partnership forms to uncover the mysteries of The Depths and the cursed Hole-Dwellers, and an even more unlikely romance begins to blossom between the two in _Hole-Dwelling People_.


	2. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles begins his investigation and finds a creature.

How tall that wound in the mountainside truly was! Its enormity could not be fully captured by the pictures of it. As Miles stood before the entrance of The Depths, he found himself breathless in front of its majesty. In his pale hands were copies of his father’s notes and a flashlight. Over his shoulder was a leather satchel containing a small excavating kit used to uncover fossils and other ancient items and a tape recorder so he could dictate his findings rather than write them. Miles looked over his notes one more time. He needed to be reminded of every valuable piece of information, as he could not afford to miss a warning of something dangerous if there were one. 

Fingering through those now-yellowed pages, a low sound came from inside the depths. It was a melody so cold it ran right through him like the frigid waters of a river, the cut of the winter wind. Miles could not make out the words of the song, but he only found himself becoming so entranced by its sound that he could only sit and listen until it reached its end. How remarkable that song was; it shook the young investigator’s core to the point he questioned whether or not he should enter that cavern at all. However, Miles easily plucked up his courage when he once again thought of his father’s work and he approached the threshold of The Depths. 

One of his hands touched the cold wall of the entrance as he stepped into the forbidden cave. With a click, his flashlight turned on and shined its light toward the far end (if you could call it that; there was no “end” to this tunnel in sight) of The Depths, but the white light was quickly swallowed by an unearthly darkness. It was noon at this point and given the position of the sun there should be at least some semblance of light past the ten foot mark, however that was not the case at all. It was as if Miles had entered the throat of a ravenous beast, and the darkness was his doom swallowing him whole. How he hated this place already!

The young man unbuttoned the carefully crafted flap of his satchel and opened it, removing the tape recorder. He clicked it on as he gazed around the walls of the enclosure, then raised it to his lips. “Today is November 15th, 20―, and it is my first time entering The Depths. I am only a few steps in and the darkness is swallowing, my flashlight can barely cut through the blackness. It may be noteworthy that before I entered I heard a melody so chilling it almost steered me from entering today. I believe I read something about that in my father’s notes before.” Miles walked along the wall, using its surface to maintain his balance when he saw them. The cave paintings his father had mentioned were no “paintings” to the Edgeworth heir at all― they were murals. Giant, sprawling, detailed murals painted by someone who had nothing else to do but recall and recreate their unfortunate fate. 

“How remarkable,” Miles gasped as he shined his flashlight over the never-ending artwork. “The paintings inside this cave are made using what I assume to be different variants of the red clay found within this mountainside. I still cannot understand how the inhabitants had created such detailed scenes with only this, however.” He gently touched one of the figures in the painting, a large figure with light hair and a stern brow. This character’s arm was outstretched, pointing toward a depiction of The Depths with several gangly looking people forced to crawl inside, their faces stretched long with sorrow. Those expressions were so haunting they sent a chill down Miles’ spine and caused him to look away. “The artwork within this cavern is… soul-stirring, I must say. So much so, I find myself needing to make a comment on the content. From where I am standing―”

_Shhhh shhhh shhhh._

Miles abruptly stopped speaking at the quiet sound that crawled from further inside the cave. His brow furrowed and he shined his flashlight toward the direction of the eerie noise. “Pardon me,” He began, lowering his voice. “But I seem to have heard a sound coming from a deeper place. It sounded like some kind of movement, but I’m not so sure.” Swallowing his nervousness, the gray-haired man took a few steps, traveling deeper into the tunnel. His foot briefly slipped on something soft below, and he gasped upon shining his flashlight on it. “Flesh! I’ve slipped on the furry hide of an animal. And so close to the threshold of this gash in the mountainside…”

_Shhhh shhhh shhhh. Tap tap tap tap tap._

Like a deer in headlights, Miles stared wide eyes into the darkness ahead of him, silent. Paralyzed in fear, he did not even mention what he had heard into his recorder. He even remained still as the form of a man emerged before him with wide brown eyes staring into his own. Miles’ lip quivered― he so desperately wanted to say something!― but nothing left his mouth except his ragged, fearful breath. 

The mysterious figure stepped into a lighter area of the hole, his expression filled with confusion and wonder. That unfamiliar countenance was streaked with blood and dirt, but even in the dim light it could be discerned that this was no doubt a man who had not been in the sun for some time― any skin that was not covered with a layer of blood was white as a sheet. His body was dressed with different animal hides; a surprisingly well-constructed body-suit of sorts along with makeshift boots. Around his collar was the cottony fur of what seemed to be a wolf, its head still attached to the pelt and resting near the man’s breast. In his right hand was a long bow designed for hunting, the arrows for which were strapped to his back in a quiver. In the other were the corpses of two bloodied animals Miles could not recognize― were they foxes? Or maybe small wolves?― tied together for easier carrying, Miles assumed. 

The silence between the two was so long, but the stranger did not seem to be a threat. If anything, he seemed just as confused and frightened as Miles. The paralysis finally subsided, and Miles straightened his posture and cleared his throat. He feigned confidence and asked, “What would your name be?”

The other shifted, his loose black hair falling in front of his face before whispering plainly, “Phoenix.”


End file.
